


There's No Professor Here

by Butterynutjob



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Charles You Slut, Gay Bar, Hate Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, Trucker Jesus Charles, canon AU, talking dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles wasn't at the mansion when Logan showed up there looking for him in 1973. And when Logan found him he realized The Professor was a far more different man than Logan was friends with in 2023...just as smart, but angrier and drunker and unfortuately much sexier than Logan was prepared to handle. </p><p>I deviated from the prompt slightly, sorry OP! Also this ended up being a little darker than I intended...</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Professor Here

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [XavierineFest2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/XavierineFest2015) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  When Logan is sent back into the past he seeks out Charles. He's shocked to find him at a gay bar, drunk, shirt halfway unbuttoned, and acting like a wanton slut. Charles hits on him shamelessly and Logan finds himself seeing the Professor in an entirely new light. Logan has a few drinks with him, all the while trying to redirect the conversation back to the important topic of the sentinels, but finds himself thoroughly distracted.

"I told you, there's no professor here!" The blue-furred beast - the man Logan would come to know as his friend in the future, Hank McCoy - snarled upside-down from the chandelier. "He's _out_."

"Well, why in hell didn't you say so?" Logan muttered, backing up so that Beast could leap down. He cracked his neck. As fights went, that one had been pretty fun. "'Out' where, exactly?" 

Hank nimbly leaped down. He seemed less inclined to attack Logan now that Logan had stopped trying to go upstairs, but he still regarded the man warily. "What do you want with him?" 

There was something in Hank's demeanor that didn't quite seem...right, but considering he had never known Hank at this age, Logan couldn't put his finger on it. But it was enough to make Logan feel a little cautious about telling Hank why he was there. Professor X and Magneto hadn't said anything about Hank, and if he did tell him, Logan wouldn't be able to un-tell him. 

"It's, uh, complicated," he said finally, awkwardly. His brow furrowed in amazement as Hank's blue fur started _sucking back inside_ Hank's skin. That was new. Or old, as the case may be.

Hank's skin had just returned to the peachy shade it had been when Logan had first arrived when Logan’s words registered and he immediately flushed red. "Oh," he said. He swallowed. 

Logan cocked his head, frowning deeper at Hank. "So...can you tell me where he is?"

Hank somewhat stiffly walked into the adjacent messy study. Logan wasn't sure if Hank expected him to follow or not, so he stood awkwardly, hovering in the frame between the foyer and the study, as Hank rummaged in a drawer in the desk and came back out a moment later. "He's here," Hank said brusquely, pushing a book of matches into Logan's hand. The matchbook didn't seem to have a name on it, just a pattern of black and pink triangles - and a Westchester address. 

Logan knew the street the address indicated. He actually knew Westchester really well from having lived at the mansion for a large chunk of his life, (at least a decade, on and off, before the sentinels had chased them out of it four years before...or forty-six years in the future...)

Logan shook his head sharply, trying to shake the thought out. That's exactly what he was here to prevent. "Thanks," he said gruffly. He looked up and met Hank's eyes thoughtfully. Even though the Professor and Magneto hadn't said Hank would be there, he also hadn't warned him against the man. "You might, uh, be a part of this. Do you want to come?"

"No," Hank yelped, stumbling backwards now. "No, I'm good here, thank you."

Logan scowled. "Never thought of you as a coward," he muttered as he stalked towards the door. 

Hank spluttered. "Being straight doesn't make me a coward, and, just in case you hadn't gotten the message, _we don't fucking know each other._ "

Logan paused at the door, his back to the other man. He wouldn't usually accept that tone of your voice from another person without providing a side of ass-whooping, but considering how fucked up the whole situation was, he decided to let it drop. Really, Hank's last words were more confusing than anything else. 

**

Logan found the bar easily. It was unmarked from the outside, windows covered, but the street numbers were obvious so Logan walked in. It was gloomy inside, with visible dust motes floating in the light that seeped in around the windows. There was some unmemorable disco song playing and the place had the familiar smell of beer and peanuts and cologne and sex. 

Logan paused, sniffing. Despite the pervasive smells of musk and sweat and sex, he could not smell any women.

So, okay. Gay bar. Logan could handle that; he'd lived a long time and had even been with men himself a couple times; it took more than a gay bar to faze him. It was surprising that the professor had come here...though, was it, really? The Professor and Magneto were together in every sense of the word, now, at least, and they were both men; it shouldn't seem odd for the young professor to be in a gay bar. But for some reason it did - the 'bar' part causing more cognitive dissonance than the 'gay' part. It just seemed - undignified. Not Xavier-esque.

Logan ordered a beer before he realized he didn't have a way to pay for it. He checked his pockets and to his surprise found several twenties. Well, that was fortuitous. Considering he had no idea what he'd been doing in his life in 1973 (his memories from before 1979 had been obliterated by the Weapon X project) he hoped 1973 James didn't owe this money to someone. 

"That'll be a buck fifty," the bartender said. 

"Shit, I should come to 1973 more often," Logan muttered, paying the man and collecting his change. The bartender, fortunately, did not seem to hear him. 

Once he’d swallowed down about half his beer in one gulp, Logan looked around. He figured that the professor's wheelchair would stick out like a sore thumb, but he didn't see one. Maybe Hank had lied to get him away from the mansion?

"Hello, handsome, what do you want to bet I can read your mind?" a slurred British accent said next to him. 

"Oh, I didn't think--" _you had your powers_ Logan was going to say, turning towards the voice, when he realized the man was standing and therefore couldn't be the professor.

"Prof--" The word halted in Logan’s mouth once he looked at the man. He was slight - short, even, and Logan had never thought of the Professor as short...although Logan had never seen the professor standing up, either. Also, the man he was looking at had long stringy hair, and a ginger-colored beard...frankly he looked so little like the professor Logan knew that he assumed the British accent was a coincidence. "Ah, sorry, I thought you were someone else."

The man leaned closer, one side of his mouth twisted up. "For you, I can be someone else." He smelled like expensive scotch. 

"Oh. Um." Logan gave the man a more assessing glance. He was actually kind of attractive, in an I-hate-myself kind of way. His eyes certainly were blue and luminous. In fact, they reminded him of...

"Charles Xavier?" Logan said slowly, incredulously, as the other man's eyes gave it away. 

Charles gave him a slightly puzzled look. "Have we met?" he said. "You do look somewhat familiar...although I'm certain I would have remembered if we had." The last part was said low, with an undeniable sexual connotation to it. 

"No! We...I mean, yeah, of course. I mean...I know you, Charles. I was, uh, sent for you." Logan felt flustered in way he rarely did. He didn't expect for young Charles Xavier to be so...well, so attractive. Or hairy.

"You were - sent for me?" Charles repeated slowly. "Is this some kind of Cyrano de Bergerac game? You have a hot friend feeding you lines? Or...trying to set-up a menage a trois?" The arched eyebrows lifted inquisitively as that sly smile crept across his lips again. 

"Ha. Yeah, no. Well--no. Look... _You_ sent me. Fifty years from now." The words weren't coming out right, but Charles was running a tongue almost absent-mindedly over his lower lip and it was distracting as hell. 

Charles frowned. "I sent you - fifty years from now, as in the future?" 

Logan nodded, watching Charles's face carefully. The young man seemed on the verge of believing him, until his face relaxed into a sneer. "Piss off," he said. "You know, you don't have to--"

"If you had your powers you'd know I'm telling the truth," Logan said, lowering his voice as a man sat down on the vacant stool on the other side of Charles. Of course, if Charles could read his mind he would also know how disturbingly attractive Logan was finding him.

"How do you know I--" Charles broke off as his eyes widened. "Are you CIA?" He hissed. 

"No." Logan shook his head. "I know you, Charles. I know your powers came when you were nine and you thought were you were going crazy until you realized the voices were in everyone else's head."

Charles stared at him for a long while before he spoke. "What do you want from me?"

"Uh--" Logan eyed the other man who was sitting uncomfortably close to Charles, close enough to hear what they were talking about. "Can we talk somewhere else?"

Charles eyed him again and then laughed, a mean, dry sound. "Okay. Nice try. I'm going to find someone who is a little more direct about his interest, I think--" Charles started to turn away and Logan grabbed his shoulder. Charles shrugged the hand off forcefully. 

"Charles, listen to--"

The man on the other side of Charles stood up and looked at Logan. He was a bigger guy than Logan had realized before. He flicked a brief glance at Charles. "Is this guy bothering you?"

Logan gave the new guy an incredulous look. Charles didn't respond, instead watching Logan with an inscrutable expression. 

Logan was not a person used to thinking things through; he was someone who acted on his instinct. So he obeyed that instinct by grabbing Charles and kissing him roughly. 

Charles at first jerked in shock but melted into the kiss quickly. He tasted like Scotch and Logan could smell the arousal on him...it was intoxicating. 

But...mission. 

Logan cracked one eye open to sneak a peek and saw that the other man had walked away, disgruntled. Satisfied, Logan broke the kiss and looked down at Charles, who was looking up at him with glazed blue eyes and wet red lips. "We need to talk," he muttered, pulling Charles with him down the hall that he assumed led to the bathroom. 

The bathroom was empty, fortunately, and Logan shut and locked the door behind them before rounding on Charles - who literally leaped on him, both legs around Logan's waist, his tongue plunging deeply and sloppily into Logan's mouth. 

Logan's back hit the wall and he groaned into Charles' mouth. His body was responding even though his brain was telling him that this was a bad idea. With an effort, he obeyed his brain. "Charles," he whispered against the man's lips. "I mean it. We need to talk."

Charles hummed unhappily, lacing his hands behind Logan's neck but finally relinquishing Logan's mouth. "Okay, stranger, talk. You know my mutation and you're not CIA."

"Name’s Logan," he said, trying to not think about the erection he could see and feel in Charles’ pants. "I'm a mutant too. Fifty years from now, mutants are- uh, will be--all but gone, destroyed by these giant robots called Sentinels. You sent me back here to prevent that. Mystique - Raven - is going to kill someone next week, and that act is what makes everything happen -- the events that lead to the extermination of not only all mutants, but most humans too, people carrying the gene, whose children or grandchildren would be mutants."

Charles blinked at him several times, his mouth slightly ajar. "I see. And are you and I...together, in the future?" 

"Yeah. Wait, what? Um, no, not like...we're friends. You're with, uh, Magneto. And actually we need to get him in order to stop Raven, too."

Charles raised a hand to cover his mouth and then choked out an incredulous bark of laughter. His legs had been tightly wrapped around Logan’s waist, but he loosened them and slid down at those words. "Do you have any idea what you're saying? That man is a monster."

Logan averted his eyes from Charles. "You'll feel differently in the future. Anyway, we need to break him out and then go to Paris and stop Rav--"

"You agree with me though, don't you?" Charles said softly, taking a step closer to Logan. "You don't like him."

Logan let his eyes slide up Charles' young, trim, firm body, up to his eyes. "I thought you didn't have your powers."

Charles smiled unpleasantly. "It doesn't take a telepath to read a man like you. You're half-animal."

Logan bristled, but for some reason the insult made his cock jump in his jeans. He controlled himself with an effort, because he could all too easily see himself fucking this smugly obnoxious young Charles into oblivion. He was finding it hard to think straight. Had he told Charles everything he needed to? He felt like something was missing.

"You say you're from the future," Charles said calmly, putting a palm on Logan's chest and slowly dragging it downward. "Have you and I ever...?"

"No," Logan said, and then cleared his throat when the syllable came out thick and guttural. "We never--did anything. Like that."

"Like this?" Charles said, innocently, rubbing his hand roughly against the bulge in Logan's pants. 

Logan swallowed ."You don't understand," he tried again, when Charles abruptly jerked his hand away and glared at Logan. 

"I understand a lot more than you think," he snapped. "An older version of me sent you from the future to tell me to stop Raven from killing a particular man, because that act will lead to the creation of mutant-killing robots fifty or so years from now. Is that the gist of it?"

"Uh, well," Logan said, surprised. He should have known better than to underestimate the professor; even without his telepathy, he was scary intelligent. "Except for the part--"

Charles snorted. "Oh, right. And for some reason we need Erik's help. And you hate Erik, and so do I. So let's make sure he knows it, hmm?" Charles sank gracefully to his knees and started unbuckling Logan's pants. 

"What do you--" Logan gasped as Charles freed his cock and wasted no time in swallowing in down with what was obviously a _very_ practiced throat. Logan's hands scrabbled against the wall behind him, looking for something to hold onto and only finding smooth tile as Charles hollowed out his cheeks and created such a vacuum around Logan's cock that Logan thought his eyes were about to cross. 

"I'll do what you're asking," Charles murmured a moment later, after he'd taken mercy on Logan enough to slide his obscenely glistening lips off of Logan’s cock. “If...you will fuck me into next week and leave enough evidence of it that I can shove it in _his_ face.”

Logan recoiled from the idea. He pushed Charles away from him and tucked his cock back into his pants. “No. Stop it."

Charles let the shove ripple through him as he smirked and stood up. "Fine. Then I'll tell you what you told me, when we came to you, asking for your help: _Fuck off._ " Charles brushed by Logan to walk towards the bathroom door. 

Logan grabbed Charles by the shoulder and spun him around. "Listen to me, you little shit," he snarled. "I've been in a lot of wars and I’ve never seen nothin’ like this. I’ve seen too many good men die to let you make a fucking game of this."

Charles sneered. "A _fucking_ game. Yes, exactly."

Logan shoved him down angrily and Charles went sprawling onto the bathroom floor, laughing without mirth as he did. "I'm not saying no to your future shite, Logan. I'm saying--"

"Shut the fuck up," Logan growled. “I got the message.” He yanked roughly at Charles' jeans until they slid down over the hump of his ass. 

He never would have guessed the Professor would had had an ass this plump and round. Charles backed up onto his knees and Logan sank his teeth into one of those luscious globes until Charles yelled. 

"You wanted to be marked," Logan growled. There was a red haze around his vision and he wasn't quite thinking clearly. "You wanted to be fucked into next week. You wanted _Erik_ to see marks that I leave on you, right?"

Charles nodded, his forehead against the curve of one arm, his harsh breaths echoing loudly against the smooth concrete floor. "Yes. Fuck me until I can't walk--" and then he started laughing, an ugly laugh that grated on Logan's ears. 

"I said, shut up," Logan snarled, wrapping his right hand around Charles' throat from the back to back up his words. Charles abruptly stopped laughing and made a strangled sound. Logan loosened his grip slightly but kept his hand there. 

He spit on the fingers of his left hand and roughly shoved two inside Charles' ass. To his surprise, the fingers went in easily - and Logan's fingers weren't small. 

Logan made a disgusted sound. "It's sloppy seconds for me, huh?" Charles had clearly already been fucked that afternoon by god knows who.

Charles made a wheezy chuckle and wiggled his ass at Logan. 

"You dirty fuckin' whore," Logan grunted as he let his straining cock out of his pants and shoved it in Charles' ass without further prelude. Charles jerked gratifyingly and made a high-pitched sound. "You want to be fucked like a dirty bitch on the bathroom floor. You want it to hurt, don't you?"

"Yes," Charles said fervently. "Make it hurt, make it _show_..."

Logan grabbed Charles' hips and rammed in harder, enough to make Charles cry out, and then set a brutal pace, gripping Charles' hips hard enough to leave bruises. 

“Yes,” Charles panted. “Fuck me like an animal.”

Logan grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked up, seeing the profile of Charles’ grimace. “You wanna hurt? Hurt is something I know about.”

Logan grunted and pulled out so he could flip Charles onto his back and then re-entered him, pushing Charles' legs up and over Logan's shoulders so that the smaller man was almost bent double. Logan began thrusting away again with abandon. Even with having already been fucked that day, Charles' ass was plenty tight.

"Kiss me," Charles gasped. 

Rolling his eyes, Logan bent forward to kiss Charles only to yelp when the other man bit his lower lip, hard. 

" _Fuck_ you," Logan growled, before sinking his teeth into Charles' neck and feeling the man shudder in pleasure. That was probably what he had wanted all along. 

"You wanna be marked?" Logan growled, with a particularly hard thrust. "You want me to come all over your face? That'll mark you."

Charles did not respond except to squeeze Logan's cock with his ass, and that was Logan's undoing. He groaned and shoved in deep as he felt himself spurting inside...inside his boss, his colleague, his _friend_...

"Shit," Logan rasped, resting his forehead against Charles’ pectoral. He pulled his head up after a moment to see Charles looking at him with a carefully blank expression. Logan saw a dark bruise forming high on his neck from Logan's teeth, and his hand around Charles' throat had left a dark pink and purple blotch, too. Well, he'd definitely been marked. 

Logan leaned up a bit. "You want me to get you off?" he said. Let it never be said that Logan Howlett wasn't a gentleman. 

Charles shook his head, not meeting Logan's eyes. "I came earlier." 

Logan grunted acknowledgement and backed up to sit heavily on his ass, his pants and belt still open as he caught his breath. 

"I'll help you," Charles said suddenly. "I’ll help you stop Raven. Not because of...this, or any future shite, but because it’s what best for her." Charles was still lying on his back on the bathroom floor, his arms above his head.

"Okay," Logan said, feeling somehow empty. He looked away.

After a beat or two, Charles got up and cleaned himself as best he could with a paper towel. 

"You used me," Logan said suddenly. 

Charles frowned at him, not stopping trying to wipe semen off himself with the industrially-harsh paper towels in the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and preened visibly at the marks there. 

"You wanted to get fucked. You wanted to make Erik jealous, and you used me to do it."

Charles snorted. "Yes, and you were really suffering."

Logan stood up and zipped his pants and buckled his belt. "No, I wasn't. But...maybe you don't give a shit about me, not yet, Charles, but I care about you, and we probably just ruined our chances of being friends in the future."

Charles rolled his eyes at Logan and huffed, a mirthless sound. "People can still be friends after they fuck, you know.”

"Yeah, I know," Logan said. "Unless one of them is married to a jealous megalomaniac." He knew that Charles thought he hated Erik right now, and that it would be thirty years before they'd actually be together as a couple...but he didn't imagine that would be long enough for Erik to forgive Logan for this. 

Charles looked at Logan in shock for a moment then laughed. “You’re taking the piss,” he said. “I’m not getting married. It’s not possible.”

Logan didn’t respond. He vividly remembered attending Charles and Erik’s wedding in the year 2019, how he’d had fun giving Charles shit because he’d picked Hank as a best man. But he thought it probably wasn’t good to tell Charles too much about his own future, especially as Logan’s actions had very likely just changed it. He sighed and rubbed his knuckles absent-mindedly. They always itched if he hadn’t _snikt_ in a while.

Eventually Logan realized that sorting out the ethics of time travel was above his pay grade. He sighed again. “Professor--Charles. You're one of my closest friends--at least, you were. Would have been. Who knows, now. I hope that fuck was worth it."

Charles was staring at Logan in the mirror in shock, his lips slightly parted. Logan unlocked the bathroom door and stalked out. 

**

Logan wanted a cigar, but since that wasn't an option he had bummed a cigarette off one of the guys inside. He stood outside smoking it in the light of the sunset. He'd been outside about twenty minutes before Charles came out of the bar and joined him, apparently having bummed a cigarette of his own.

Charles just smoked next to Logan for a few minutes before he quietly said, "I'm sorry."

Logan acknowledged his apology with a quick nod. "It's not..." Logan abruptly chuckled. "It's not that I don't get a kick out of pissing Magneto off. I'm just thinkin' I'll end up at the bottom of a river someday."

"You won't," Charles promised quietly, then added, even quieter, “Men can really marry other men, in the future?”

Logan allowed himself a smirk. “They really can. But there’s also giant killer robots.”

Charles smiled back at him and Logan saw for a moment a glimpse of the man he would become, the wise and measured Professor Xavier that Logan knew. It had been undeniably fun to fuck Charles, although part of Logan wondered if he had changed the course of history too much for their friendship to survive. It wasn’t that he thought that he himself or Charles couldn’t move past it...the real question was if Erik would make Charles choose one of them over the other. 

Logan ground out his cigarette with his boot, sighing. Only time would tell. “Let’s go bust your boyfriend out of the world’s most secure prison.”


End file.
